


Nightmares

by redhonedge



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhonedge/pseuds/redhonedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>team aqua and team magma have been disbanded, which kinda sucks since y'know archie and maxie have been dedicated to that stuff since forever. now it is time to head home, but oops, looks like a week after all that has gone down, somebody went ahead and burned down maxie’s house.<br/>that aint a nice thing to do, and now he has to crash at archie’s, too.<br/>lame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

There was nothing left.

In his bitter, exhausted mind he criticized such a statement—there was, after all, some things left. Wood shrapnel, pieces of burnt furniture, the ashes of which had once been his home. It all sat in a smoldering mess, the trees around also scarred but otherwise standing tall while his house, the place he had been in since he had left his parents’ abode, was gone.  
Fingers slipped through the still-hot ash that burnt him, scalded his skin, though he barely felt it. Growing up, his Numel had numbed him to the pains of fire, yet, he could feel the burn deep in his chest as he sat there, feeling dead, lost.

Team Magma was disbanded.  
His plans had been sabotaged by a pair of children whom had shown him the error of his ways.  
And now, his house had been burned to the ground—how, he could not say. All he knew was that upon arriving back, it was all gone, nothing more to let him know of what had occurred than the flames that still licked hungrily at the remaining foundation of the house.  
  
With nowhere else to turn to, Maxie sat there, feeling the dimming sunlight be replaced by the cool shadows of the trees encircling his home mounted up just above Lavaridge, the tranquil forest offering little sympathy to a broken man.  
His fingers glossed over his pokeballs, acknowledging that now his pokemon were as homeless as he was, though could at least find shelter in their pokeballs.  
Blinking, his face void of emotion, Maxie looked up, finally noting the setting sun and how limited of daylight he would have within the next hour.  
Looking back to his now former home, for perhaps the first time since he had arrived, he could feel tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

\---

When they had parted ways at Mt. Pyre, Archie had admittedly tried to coax Maxie into forming some sort of truce with him, a friendship of sorts. In the few moments of them trying to right their wrongs, abandoning the chaos of Sootopolis to go return the orbs to Mt. Pyre, he had seen something in Maxie similar to himself. A man who had simply wanted to see the world made better—even if it was in a twisted, horrendous way that would have only worsened the conditions of life.  
Despite everything, the familiarity between their goals and their dreams to see a better life for those on their minds had struck something in him, made him wonder if perhaps they could turn their rivalry into a friendship of kind.  
  
Obviously he was rejected, Maxie spitting something at him about the blasphemy of their hatred so promptly dissipating and left to go home, and Archie had done the same, even if still trying to keep an open heart and mind regarding it. He was a good man, he liked to believe. Without his mind clouded by the presence of reviving Kyogre and flooding the world with water, he was not of ill intent.  
Well, not everyone was pure and perfect, but at least he hadn’t turned into some psychopath in the events that had occurred with the revival of Kyogre and Groudon.

Returning home to his house on Route 122 that was barely five minutes away from Mt. Pyre, it had felt eerie, even if everything was still the same within it. It felt like he had gone back several years before his obsession with Kyogre had begun, before he had begun to round up the now former members of Team Aqua. While his home remained the same as he had left it just the day before, his mind could barely grasp that things had changed so drastically in so short of time.  
Everything was gone and he was to try and start anew, find something else to busy himself with rather than fixate himself on a goal that would never come true.

Anything hinting to Team Aqua was thrown in the trash or shredded—all the paperwork, the plans, the clothing that bore emblems. It was almost painful, stripping himself of something that had been a part of his life for so long. But he couldn’t remain clutching to it, the memories that only held bitterness and a sense of defeat. Even though he had seen the errors of his ways, it still burned, how he had failed, how he had not succeeded.

Tough fingers calloused from years of labor smoothed themselves against the fabric of an old black shirt with the Aqua emblem perfect and white on its back, where it would have been once proudly showcased. His lips thinned and tightened against his teeth, remembering the distraught in Maxie’s eyes as he saw the terror he had wrought, and feeling his own despair as Kyogre went on to drench parts of Hoenn in a downpour that seemingly would never stop.  
For a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the horrific images, but they still haunted him, imprinted in his memory.  
He had already begun having nightmares pertaining to his involvement in something that might have very well destroyed Hoenn, perhaps even the world.

Throwing the shirt aside into the wastebasket set up next to his closet, he sighed, looking through his assortment of clothing. He was glad he didn’t go crazy and start imprinting that emblem on everything. Otherwise, he’d have to go around naked.

Reaching up and digging back through what he had hung up, he paused, hearing something.  
Was that… the doorbell?  
Looking back through his opened bedroom door, he waited, uncertain if he had heard it right.  
The low chime of the doorbell sang out to him again and he blinked, surprised. No one visited him. In fact, no one really knew where he lived—  
Through the fog of trying to get rid of everything Aqua, he remembered clutching onto Maxie, telling him over and over to give him a call or visit him after the mess.  
He had written down his number and address on a scrap of paper and forced it into the redhead’s hand, pleading for him to give him a chance even as he had been walking away.

Archie remembered that despite what he had expected, Maxie hadn’t thrown aside the paper right after receiving it.

Shutting his closet doors and pushing aside the wastebasket, Archie shut the bedroom door behind himself as he dodged past the mess of items on the floor of his living room leading to the main entrance. There was admittedly a lot to be thrown out—he had a lot of Aqua memorabilia and thus had a lot of cleaning to do. Most of it was laying on the floor waiting to be picked up, but some wasn’t pertaining to Aqua, just clothes he needed to put with the rest of the laundry and other minor things his mind presently wasn’t focused on.  
“Coming!” he called, hoping that he’d be heard through the door, which apparently he was, for there was only silence on the other end, no more doorbell ringing.  
Not that the person on the other side had been especially incessant about it—twice and done.

Unlocking and opening it, he was stunned into silence when seeing Maxie.  
Not necessarily seeing Maxie himself was shocking, for he had given him his address after all, but it was the soot on his cheeks, the dead look in his eyes, and well, everything else about him simply screamed ‘today has been shit.’  
“… Why don’t you come inside and, uh, explain what’s happened..?” Archie offered, reaching out and tentatively placing a hand on Maxie’s shoulder. The redhead didn’t flinch or try to move away so he allowed his arm to slip entirely around, coaxing Maxie in and kicking the door shut as he herded him from outside to the couch to sit.  
  
Maxie’s eyes looked around and scoured the décor and trash that littered Archie’s home, soaking it in as he was ushered into sitting on the couch that seemed immaculate compared to everything else.  
Seeing his eyes scoping out what a disaster his living room was, Archie grinned sheepishly before saying, “I, uh, have been doin’ some cleaning. Sorry for the mess.”  
Maxie mumbled something that either sounded like, ‘It’s fine’ or, ‘There’s pine.’  
Assuming the former, Archie paused, his eyes searching Maxie’s face. He seemed so vacant, distant, and ever-so-quiet. It was an eerie shell of the man’s self.  
Stirring from his thoughts, he glanced at Maxie once, figuring he wasn’t about to get up and leave his couch, he left to his bathroom to get a washcloth and rub off that soot on Maxie’s face.  
It probably didn’t feel too hot.

Finding a nice, clean cloth to use—why of all days did he decide today to upturn everything, when it had already been some few weeks after their departure at Mt. Pyre?—Archie soaked it briefly in hot water, wringing it out and abandoning the bathroom to return to the living room.  
He found a drained Maxie curled up on his couch then, shifting from sitting upright to pressed up against the corner of the couch, his eyes closed.  
Faltering in his step, Archie stood there, feeling a bit afraid of possibly disturbing Maxie.  
He looked so exhausted and he felt a piteous pang in his stomach even if he knew little as to what had happened to him during their time apart.

“I’m still awake, and I know you’re there, Archie.”

The mumbled words startled Archie, blinking as Maxie cracked open an eye and looked over at him, even it was still half-lidded.  
“Just afraid you were still asleep,” sheepishly Archie offered up in explanation, picking back up his original mission as he went to the couch.  
“Not asleep… Just tired,” grumbled Maxie, pushing himself up, his eyes focused momentarily on the fabric of the couch’s arm before straightening properly. Promptly sinking back against the couch, Maxie flinched as Archie touched his shoulder, tensing up more so as he was moved to face him.  
“What are you--?”  
Maxie scrunched up his face in disdain as the warm washcloth was gently rubbed across his left cheek, rubbing off the soot that was still clutching to his skin.  
“You’re covered in soot and I figured you’d want to be washed up,” Archie informed him a moment later, his eyes focused on the task at hand.  
“I could’ve done it myself,” sighed Maxie, but he let it happen, much too tired to protest much.

It was still incredibly eerie to Archie how Maxie’s behavior had switched, from hissing and spitting threats at him to sitting there calm and compliant, letting him wash away the soot.  
Eventually, he set it aside when deeming his job completed, glancing back after putting the washcloth on the nearby coffee table.  
“Uh, care to explain… everything?”  
  
That distant look returned to Maxie as he combed a hand through his hair, which Archie noted was lacking its usually styling and instead was loose, nigh upon messy, and their eye contact was broken as Maxie looked away.  
“Some idiot… burned down my house,” he muttered, voice low as if too ashamed to speak of it. “Came back and nothing was there. Probably some idiot grunt bitter about everything that had happened—couldn’t find me, so might as well as eliminate all I could come back to.”  
Sighing wearily, Maxie cautiously glanced back, fretting over Archie’s response. He anticipated some sort of taunt, mocking him of how much of a failure he was at this point, losing the battle of expanding land at the hands of some children and now, this.

Instead, he was met with a strangely empathetic look on Archie’s face, rather than a sneer of contempt or something else.  
“You can always stay here,” readily Archie suggested, piping up not even seconds later after his confession of why he looked so rundown. “There’s a guest room—er, well, the house is messy right now, but something can be figured out.”  
His face suddenly softened, going from giddy with the need to supply Maxie a new, albeit temporary, home to sunken with sorrow.  
“I’m… sorry that you lost your home. You’re more than welcome here. It isn’t like there is anybody else but me for you to deal with, and I’ll, uh, try to leave you alone for the most part.”  
Antsy and shifting, Archie was clearly trying not to mess up, his words fumbling and struggling to coherently how admittedly happy he was to have Maxie here, but sorrowed to hear of his misfortune.

Maxie was silent, Archie feeling anxiety building as his lack of response until the redhead moved from his spot on the couch. Not budging, Archie sat as still as possible as Maxie’s arms delicately wrapped around him before firming somewhat in a hug, his cheek resting against Archie’s chest.  
“Thank you,” he mumbled, the redhead closing his eyes in weariness as he felt arms wrap around him.  


\---

All Maxie did for awhile was sleep.

Archie didn’t ask much of what else he had suffered before he had finally come to him, eventually figuring out that Maxie had not immediately come to him after discovering his home was gone, burned to the ground. But despite his curiosity, he let him sleep for as long as he liked in his guest room, barely ever seeing the redhead emerge.  
Sometimes he’d be asleep for so long he’d quietly open the guest room door and peer in, lean up against the doorframe and watch Maxie, checking to see there was still the rise and fall of his chest that told him he was still breathing.

After two days of sleep, Maxie eventually came back out—at least Archie figured this from the sound of the shower turning on.  
It was nine am and there was a sense of delight that finally Maxie had come back to the land of the living.  
Admittedly, he had been worried, fussing within his own mind that he may have some sort of sickness that made him sleep so long, or perhaps this time he had died in his sleep without him knowing, still believing him to be resting.  
But the sound of the shower being turned off was music to his ears, soothing his worries as Archie thought of breakfast, of how Maxie was feeling.  
  
The bathroom door opened and Archie perked up from where he sat on the couch before switching his gaze to the television, pretending he wasn’t that interested as Maxie came out.  
Archie had set out some of his spare, old clothes in case Maxie had wanted to change out of his own, and it seemed he had taken up that option.  
The dark blue shirt was a bit big, but the pants thankfully fit fine from what Archie could judge from his brief look.  
“Good morning,” he chimed, unable to keep his giddiness toned down as he tore his eyes away from the television and to Maxie, who blinked sleepily at him.  
His hair was still damp and strands were pressed to the sides of his face, the former Magma leader absently combing his fingers through.  
“Morning,” he mumbled, Archie wondering how exhausted he still was as he came over and sat down next to him, looking at what he was watching.

“… How are you feeling?” carefully he asked and Maxie didn’t look at him, still staring at the screen.  
“Tired.”  
Nodding empathetically, Archie glanced briefly at the television screen to see what was so interesting.  
It was on a commercial break, advertising the local Lilycove contests.

“You should go back to bed then—“  
“No.”  
Archie winced at the sharpness of Maxie’s voice as he cut in, interrupting him before he could even finish his suggestion of going back to bed.  
The redhead was looking at him and Archie felt an unnecessary amount of guilt, and apparently, it was showing on his face as Maxie’s harsh look softened, looking away.  
“… I can’t stand my dreams. I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he sighed in explanation, closing his eyes as his hands lifted, fingers tenderly rubbing his temples.  
“And I can’t sleep forever. I need to be awake at some point.”

Archie nodded slowly, frowning at how weary Maxie looked either way. He looked as exhausted as the first day he had come to his home, just without all the dirt and soot.  
“… Let me make you breakfast!” Archie chirruped, getting to his feet. “What do you like? I’ve been told I make pretty good pancakes.”  
Grinning, it was a struggle not to let his grin fade as Maxie looked up at him tiredly.   
“I’m not really hungry,” he mumbled and Archie scoffed.  
“Doesn’t matter if you aren’t hungry—you have to eat something!”  
Maxie didn’t respond to that so Archie shrugged, heading to the connecting kitchen.  
  
“I’ll make you something light,” he called back, hearing no response.  
How badly did losing his house break him?  
Even as he moved around the kitchen, deciding that a simple breakfast of eggs would hopefully be enough nutrition to keep Maxie going but also light enough to not make him unhappy, he was fixated on these troubling thoughts.  
From a fiery, stubborn spirit he seemed like nothing more than an ember of his former flame, barely existent.  
The fear at the back of Archie’s mind, that Maxie was sick and slowly dying, slowly crept back to his most prominent thoughts as he set a pan out on the stove.  
  
Clenching his teeth as he cracked an egg into the pan, he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, turning on the heat.  
There was nothing wrong with Maxie and he had to keep this in mind. He was sure this was just the impact of incredible stress and exhaustion.  
Archie forced himself to focus on the scrambled eggs he was making, his mind focusing on the hiss of the egg whites cooking rather than the depressing imagery of Maxie dying in his home.  
When had he become so attached?  
  
There was only the hum of the TV to fill the silence as he cooked.  
Maxie was not eager to talk and Archie felt choked up over his own personal matters, not wanting to worry the redhead with his overthinking.  
Eventually, he plated the scrambled eggs and headed back to the living room, Maxie still on the couch with his legs drawn up to his chest.  
He was staring at the television, but from the looks of it, wasn’t absorbing anything that he was seeing, though he remained attentive as he looked over at the plate offered to him.  
“Eat,” Archie firmly commanded when Maxie didn’t immediately take it.  
“I won’t make you do anything else, but if you wanna stay here, you gotta eat.”  
That was something of a lie. He’d make him eat no matter what, but there was no way he could kick Maxie out.  
And he was sure the redhead knew this, looking up at him and making eye contact for a few moments before sighing, taking the plate.  
“Fine,” he grunted, picking up the fork. “I’ll eat.”  
  
Satisfied, Archie sat back down, watching the reality TV show that was on while Maxie slowly, gradually, ate the eggs.  
By the time the thirty minute program was over, he was done, the plate set aside on the coffee table, though his appearance had not improved.  
Archie looked over at the redhead, frowning as Maxie let his cheek rest against his knee as he stared at the next show that came on, and finally, he spoke up.  
“Are you feeling well?”  
Maxie looked over, and then back to the TV.  
“Like I said, I’m just… Tired.”  
“Have you been getting any sleep at all?”  
  
Maxie was silent, his eyes not moving from the television screen.  
“Maxie—“  
“No, not really.”  
Archie pursed his lips, Maxie looking over at him, looking somewhat irritated.  
“I told you, I’m tired of my dreams. All it is… is fire. And every time I wake up, I think I’m actually there, in that fire—“  
Maxie broke off, burying his face in his knees, not wanting Archie to see his weakness, his shame.  
“… I just don’t want to sleep.”  
  
They sat there in silence, Maxie not wanting to look up and see how Archie was reacting to the ironic turn of events. From wanting to douse the land in lava, Maxie was suddenly having nightmares involving fire—it wasn’t exactly something you’d expect from a man who loathed the ocean.  
Maxie’s fingers, clutching onto his legs, dug deeper in when feeling a hand brush along his back and then arms pulled around him, drawing him tight to Archie.  
Looking up, confused, he flinched as Archie combed a hand through his now dry hair, resting his forehead against his own as he lifted his head up.

“Y’know, we’re not rivals anymore,” Archie mumbled. Maxie was silent.  
“You don’t have to hide things from me, I mean—I’m here for you now. I’m not gonna mock you after you lost everything. I just want you to get better.”  
Maxie was silent, but he hadn’t removed himself from his touch, and gradually did Archie feel him shift, adjust positions.  
Soon there were arms wrapped around him as well, Maxie pressing himself up against Archie.  
“I’m just so tired,” he feebly mumbled, sounding so spent, and Archie held him a bit tighter.  
“I know, Maxie, I know.”  
  
\---

With some coaxing, Archie got Maxie to go back to bed, even if the redhead seemed anxious about returning to his nightmares. He tried to hide it, but when Archie would bring up sleeping, he could see the sudden switch in his eyes, going from tired to scared, even if it was subtle, barely there. Obviously he was used to concealing such emotions, but in his state of exhaustion it seemed like all the layers had been peeled back with his defensive mechanisms of lashing out barely existent.  
Now he was as vicious as a Poochyena puppy, still with all the teeth but lacking the ability to use them properly.

The miniature grandfather clock mounted on his living room wall chimed the hour as nine—it was pitch black outside and chill with wintertime, Archie flicking off the television.  
He had forced Maxie into going to bed an hour before, but as he got up, he had a feeling that the redhead wasn’t asleep.

Slowly, he padded down the hallway, lightly touching the guest room door. It wasn’t shut all the way and silently opened, allowing Archie to peer in, his eyes scouring the room.  
As he expected, Maxie was somewhat propped up, his breathing regular and not the deep, slow rhythm that came with sleep. Instead, he was sitting up against his pillows, staring wearily at the alarm clock Archie had set up for him on the second day of him staying there.  
Stepping inside of the room, still undetected, he shut the door—when it clicked shut, Maxie jerked fully upright, snapping his head around to see Archie’s outline.  
The moon’s light filtered in through the window above the bed and provided enough light to see outlines and vague features, enough for Maxie to hiss.  
“W-what are you doing? I was trying to—“  
  
“Stay awake all night?”  
  
Maxie shut up, clenching his teeth and looking away as Archie approached the bed, sitting down next to where the redhead was laying.  
“Like I think you’re actually gonna go to sleep,” he snorted, Maxie looking dismal, his gaze downward.  
“… C’mere,” muttered Archie, swinging his legs onto the bed and reaching out for Maxie, grabbing onto him.  
“What’re you—“ sputtered Maxie as he was dragged close, Archie even managing to wriggle himself under the blankets in the meantime as he cuddled up closer to the other man.  
“Helpin’ you sleep, that’s what I’m doing.”  
Maxie blinked in confusion, feeling an arm tug at his waist and rest there as Archie stated, “I’m going to be right here, entire night, and however long you need to sleep. And when you have a nightmare,” Maxie felt himself be pulled a little tighter to Archie, “I’ll be here for you. So go to sleep, and I’ll be here to make things better.”

Maxie lay in silence for a moment, unable to quite comprehend that Archie was willing to endure whatever may come with his nightmares in order to comfort him. He studied his face for a moment, trying to evaluate it the best he could in the moonlight, and eventually he conceded that he was indeed willing to watch out for him.  
Sighing, he let his cheek rest in the crook of Archie’s neck, closing his eyes.  
“… Thank you,” Maxie mumbled, tentatively putting an arm around Archie, holding onto him.  
The redhead could have sworn he felt lips press against the top of his head, but he was already drifting off as exhaustion claimed him.

\---

As he knew he would, Maxie woke up sporadically, captured in a cold sweat and in a state of terror, automatically clutching onto Archie who had loyally remained close as he shook from the fear that still hung onto him. Breathing hard and fast, every time did Archie soothe him back into calm, murmuring soft words and stroking his hair until he found the ability to doze back off, his face often buried in Archie’s neck or chest.  
The amount of time it took for Archie to calm Maxie down shortened with every episode, eventually, Maxie only waking up to check if Archie was still there, often met with coaxing words for him to go back to sleep, that everything was fine.

In the daytime, neither spoke of it, and every night after the first night Archie declared himself the ‘protector’ of sorts for Maxie against his nightmares, the same pattern was repeated. It became strangely natural to anticipate warm arms wrapping around him, even when Archie came to bed late, and every time he pushed himself into that gentle touch.  
Sleeping came easier and eventually, with time, the nightmares faded, and even though he mentioned this to Archie, the man still came back to bed with him and still held him close, using the excuse of ‘the nightmares might come back’.

It was day fourteen since his arrival.  
Maxie had been keeping track as he mentally prepared himself for the long journey of figuring out where he’d live next, not able to leech off Archie forever.  
From bitter rivals, they had grown closer within those two weeks, and Maxie found it so odd how things had changed.  
Some time ago they would have been at each other’s throats, but now, they sat close together, their shoulders brushing, watching some cheap television show while having some Lava Cookies Archie had bought. They even had managed to go shopping together, get Maxie a new set of clothes, what with his old ones burned to the ground with his home.  
  
Brainlessly watching the television screen while slowly eating, his legs folded, Maxie felt relaxed on the couch, accustomed to this ritual of watching TV before noontime and then, afterwards, going out and doing something. His exhaustion had faded and he was looking brighter, more alert. No longer was he a ghost that simply haunted the household, instead an active participant in everything that was going on—or even a forceful one, not liking being put on the sidelines.  
Archie, however, seemed lost in his thoughts whenever Maxie looked over, uncertain of why he seemed so distant.  
Normally he’d be cracking some cheap jokes and trying to coax a laugh out of Maxie, which rarely happened, but Archie always lit up as bright as a Chinchou when he got even a chuckle.  
Now, staring down his half-eaten cookie, he didn’t seem as interested, and Maxie thought of asking him if everything was alright.  
  
Gathering up the courage, looking back over, Maxie opened his mouth, but Archie was already speaking, his words rapid with anxiety.  
“I want you to stay.”  
Maxie closed his mouth, blinking, and then slowly opened it back up, having the chance to speak.  
“… What?”  
Archie turned fully to him, his expression serious. He even set his Lava Cookie down on his knee so he could focus entirely on Maxie without the nuisance of a cookie distracting him.  
“I want you to live here. With me. Instead of movin’ out, which I know we’ve both been working on figuring out where you’ll live next, and we’ve been workin’ really hard on that, but I just, I don’t want you to go, and I’ll do anything—“  
A sputtering, run-on sentence mess, Archie’s serious look became distraught up until a hand interrupted him by planting itself on his shoulder, a kiss hindered any further speaking by planting itself on his lips.

Lingering, Maxie was admittedly tentative despite the bold action of leaning forward and capturing Archie in a kiss, but relief swept over him as Archie responded positively, returning the kiss. Maxie even felt a hand brush against his cheek and fingers comb back into his hair, though he had to break away, even if his lips remained barely an inch away from Archie’s as their eyes reconnected.  
“I’ll stay here,” Maxie agreed, seeing Archie’s eyes light up, a delighted look erupting across his face.  
“Does that mean you’ll start sleepin’ in my room then? I’ll have to get some extra pillows and maybe one more blanket, but—“  
Archie pulled away, already looking frantic over accommodating Maxie.  
“Do you like the guest room more? I mean, I guess I can move over there, no big deal, but if you don’t like the guest room we can switch to the master and we should probably—“  
  
A low ‘mmf’ finished off whatever Archie was rattling off as Maxie pressed the flat of his index finger against his lips, leaning back in.  
“I’ll stay, but only on one condition,” Maxie stated, Archie blinking, waiting for the condition.  
“Stop over thinking everything. Can you do that for me?”  
Archie nodded vigorously and Maxie couldn’t resist a smile at his eager behavior, which only incited Archie to grab onto him, dragging him close as Maxie yelped at the sudden, tight hug.  
“I got you to smile!”  
“It isn’t that exciting! J-just, let go of me!”


End file.
